


Study Session

by Ernmark (M_Moonshade)



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, adorkable nerds being adorkable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:12:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/Ernmark
Summary: Adam's bad episodes are always a bit easier when he's with Caleb.





	Study Session

**Author's Note:**

> An anon asked me to write something fluffy between Caleb and Adam. I hope this counts.

It’s Sunday morning, and it would be a nice day– the sun’s shining and the weather’s pretty okay, I guess– but it’s one of those days when Adam’s feeling shitty. At least he’s letting me spend it with him this time. So that’s… good? Not all bad, anyway. 

It’s not like we’re even doing anything, just sitting on my bed (with the door open, because my parents are lame like that), back to back because he likes the contact. It reminds him that I’m here, even though neither of us is saying anything. He’s got his earbuds in and he’s listening to one of the playlists I made him. Meanwhile I’m doing my homework for Monday.

Real romantic, right?

“Fucking poetry,” I mutter, and I thought I said it under my breath, but I must not have, because Adam pulls out one of his earbuds.

“You say something?” 

I want to say ‘nothing’– I mean, that’s what I’d say to pretty much anybody else– but that feels too much like I’m shutting him out, and that’s not something I want to do, even over something this small and stupid.

“Just trying to figure out the English homework,” I tell him. “Like, I get that we have to have a poetry unit or whatever, but what am I supposed to even do with this? And why couldn’t they give us a poem that sounds normal?”

A bit of interest seeps in through the gray haze of Adam’s emotions. “What do you mean?”

“Like, it sounds all… weird? Like with the last lines. They’re all short or whatever.” 

“Which one is it?”

I point it out to him: _La Belle Dame Sans Merci_ , by that Keats guy. It’s kinda neat feeling Adam's emotions as he reads over it a few times. That gray haze is still there, but it’s like it’s lit up with fireflies– those little sparks of excitement that he gets when he’s nerding out about something. They don’t break through it or anything, but they’re there.

“The meter is off in the last lines,” he agrees. “It’s not even always the same number of feet, either. Or in the same pattern.” 

“I know, right?” 

“Well, yeah, but I think he did it on purpose. It’s supposed to feel… off. Wrong, you know? Like, with all the other lines, they’re almost all four feet long, and almost all Iambic, but then the last lines are all over the place. Like in the first stanza, it looks kinda like two trochees, and in the second one it might be an anapest followed by an iamb? Or something like that?”

I’m already digging through my papers for that little cheat sheet for the different poetry terms. “Sure, we’ll go with that.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head. “Like I said, I’m pretty sure it’s _supposed_ to sound wrong. It’s like… like walking up stairs in the dark, but then you think there’s an extra step when there really isn’t? You know, that feeling? I think that’s what he’s going for. Like, you’re so used to the rhythm of the other three lines that you’re expecting it, and then the fourth line comes and it doesn’t happen.” 

“Yeah, I think I get it.” Thank God I have a nerdy boyfriend. Don’t get me wrong, I probably could have figured it out eventually– it’s not like I’m dumb or anything– but this is a lot easier for me to get my head around than words like ‘anapest’ and ‘iambic’.

“And, like, it makes sense with everything else that’s going on, you know? Like the speaker sees this knight, and they think he’s normal, but there’s something that seems off about him, and they don’t know why until he tells his story. And it’s the same with the knight– he thought this lady was pretty awesome, but she turned out to be a fairy and did some weird shit to him while they were getting it on on that hill. Things always seem pretty normal until they go all weird, just like the meter.” 

Now that he’s gotten started, he keeps going like that for a while. I don’t mind– I like listening to him talk, especially now that his voice is getting more animated. His mood feels brighter, too, less like the haze and more like those improvised presentations he gives in class. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m learning more about this poem and Keats and nineteenth century poetry than I ever would have learned from school.

He doesn’t wind down so much as catch himself rambling. “Sorry. I guess I got a little…” 

This is a really bad angle to kiss him from without it getting awkward, so I just squeeze his hand. 

“You’re such a nerd.” And just to make sure he doesn’t get the wrong idea: “And I like that about you. Dude, my boyfriend is the smartest guy in school. It’s awesome.”

He squeezes my hand back. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his affection like a warm blanket even through the haze.

**Author's Note:**

> The stuff Adam is babbling on about is basically a presentation I gave in my senior year of high school, because it was a heck of a lot easier than coming up with something new.


End file.
